


Tied to you

by FictusAuthoritasRedux



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arthur hates his father, Arthur is a dick to his mate, F/M, First try at A/B/O please don't hate me, Imprinting, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mistaken Dynamic, Omega Verse, Pregnancy, Scotland is England's father, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 14:42:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12843372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictusAuthoritasRedux/pseuds/FictusAuthoritasRedux
Summary: Arthur is an elite alpha of superior breeding and for all he knows Matilda Williams is a beta working as a temp for his company. So why is Alfred F. Jones in his home threatening to kill him if Arthur doesn't take responsibility for her?





	Tied to you

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone giving this story a chance, thank you. I know that Canada/England is not a very popular pairing adding that this is Female Canada is the love interest in this A/B/O story it'll get even less readers. I am going to try to do my best with it. My sister is doing partial beta for me because she loves me and I can bribe her with food. If I have messed up on the way certain people talk please I take helpful criticism. Kudos and comments are very much appreciated.

Arthur Kirkland is a nervous wreck. 

He's getting married in an hour. He has a debilitating hangover from the stag do he foolishly allowed his soon-to-be brother in law hold for him. The limousine to take them to the vicarage is held up - stuck behind a flock of sheep somewhere, presumably.

His five year old son, Peter, will not get dressed because he wants to be Captain Underpants the Super Ringbearer. It is a stark contrast to his twin sister, Michelle, who is demurely sitting on the sofa in her flower girl gown. She takes after their mother in temperament while Peter has managed to adapt some obscenely stubborn insanity from his uncle.

All the while this is going on, the vicar is a blithering drunken idiot. Because why not?

His best man is eyeing him dangerously, just waiting for Arthur to get cold feet so he can kill him. Not that Arthur will get cold feet. But given how much of a twat for a good length of time he acted up until now, Alfred wasn’t taking chances. 

All this going on and not once has he let himself take a moment to look at his bride to be. Because for once he’s going to do the right thing and follow tradition and not look at her before the wedding. Of course it doesn’t help, he’s had to turn her around so she wouldn't see him. She’s more focused on trying to help him calm down than the chaos around them. 

Matilda Williams (soon to be Kirkland) has always been sensitive to the changes in his scent and no matter if they were five, twenty five, or a hundred and five she'd somehow or another pick up when something was upsetting him.

This is not a life he was expecting. But then again, nothing ever went as planned.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
Six years ago  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The harsh buzzing of his phone pulls Arthur from his slumber and he takes note that he's not alone in the bed. The other occupant is spread out on top of him with their head resting on his chest and long dark blonde waves obscuring their features. A soft voice barely a whisper mumbles into his chest "please turn that off" before the stranger rolled off him and onto their side. 

Sitting up Arthur grabbed his phone and pinched the bridge of his nose - a habit he had developed after years of dealing with the stressful antics of both Alfred and Francis.

Eyes finally focused well enough to see the electronic display of numbers stating the date and time. “Satan’s hairy bollocks!” Arthur yelled. He’d been out for a whole week?! Panic. Dismay. Confusion. All played in him as he scrambled to get up and dressed. He never once noticed that he’d awoken his bed mate with all the noise he was making. He was too distracted to pay them a single thought. 

His freshly cleaned suit, boxers, socks, shoes, and wallet all lay not far from the bed; he was already too late to be giving the frog a lick of thanks as he bolted out the bedroom door.

By the time Arthur had made it down the three flights of stairs he had slipped his shirt on and was in the process of tightening the belt around his waist. Five steps and he would be free from this place. Two steps and Arthur, car keys in hand, was at the main door and he makes a narrow dodge at being hit as it flew open.

He came face to face with Francis, the toad eater unbearably cheerful in greeting him. It was enough to put Arthur’s already irritated mind into downright rudeness.

“Ah! Good morning, my English friend! Good to see you’ve finally come out of your quarters!”

“Frog, I do not have time to deal with you! I should bleeding box your ears for poisoning me into a week long blackout bender!” Arthur’s anger was at near boiling as he pushed past the confused french man. The innocent act the other alpha gave nearly drove the enraged brit to get physical which was why he picked up his pace. 

“But I can assure you that-” 

Arthur had slid into the front seat of his Aston Martin, the door closed, engine revved and ready to take off by the time Francis had given that bullshit excuse. Rolling down the window Arthur glared at his former friend. 

“Bollox Bonnefoy! I have missed a week of work, I woke to a beta sprawled on top of me, and have no blooming memory of anything after arriving at your party. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go do damage control and pray that the bastard hasn’t replaced me.”

With that said, Arthur hit the gas and sped away from the property immediately calling his secretary. Two hours later Arthur pulled into the assigned space he rarely used and opened the trunk pulling out attire that he had specifically for times like these. Twenty minutes and he was rushing through the lobby of Kirkland corp; Ludwig, his personal secretary standing by the elevators. 

“Sir while you were away I was able to reschedule the Frankfurt project meeting that was on monday to today at 15:00. The advertising department meeting is now on monday morning at 9:00 and your father has been on the warpath.” The last words from Ludwig came just as Arthur walked into his office. 

There sitting behind Arthur’s desk, was Alistair Kirkland, CEO, and his father. 

Arthur had already felt like today was bad but looking at the man across from him, he knew it was about to get worse. Despite the poker face, Alistair’s eyes revealed a cold fury that few had ever been the focus of. With good reason.

And now that fury was directed squarely upon Arthur.

“A fine time to be a draggin in yer eejit erse. Where aboot ye been?!” 

Arthur ignored the other man walking around his desk to pull out a bottle of pain reliever before moving himself into his office bathroom to get some water. There was a painful ache in his neck and the back of his head that seemed to have started the moment he saw the scottish alpha. 

Alistair would not be ignored. He got up from the chair to follow Arthur, stopping in front of the bathroom door. He made a noticeable inhale, scrunching his face up in disgust.

“Ye reek, pup. Been oot the entire time rutting?”

Arthur swallowed back the sound of disgust he wanted to make. His father had two faces. One: charismatic businessman who could charm the panties off a frigid nun. And then there was this one. The one Arthur had grown up with knowing most of his life: a hard as diamond nails man who ruled everything with an iron fist and liked to make life miserable for his employees and family. 

“My health is none of your concern.”

“It is when ye miss two dinner meetings and dat charity party that wan on Saturday night! Then again wit that mark yer hoore left that ye shacked up with being so prominent. Ah am surprised ye cared much fer anything outside work, much less a lover.”

Arthur spun around to check his neck in his bathroom mirror at the mention of a mark only to curse as there, resting boldly on his neck around his scent gland, was the nastiest bruise he had ever seen. ‘Things could not get any worse!’

It would be another three months when Alfred F. Jones has him pinned to the floor, hands around his throat, with the intent to kill him that the Arthur was proven wrong about that. He would learn the cause of the pain in both his neck and the base of his skull that never went away. As well as the inexplicable need to rearrange his home.

**Author's Note:**

> So context (I hope that is the word) time
> 
> I'm a terrible person who sees England not having given up entirely his punk days and still throwing slang out. Though not as much as when he was younger.
> 
> The following are terms similar to daddy or mommy usually used to refer to an alpha or omega parent.  
> Apa: Alpha father  
> Ama: Alpha mother  
> Opa: Omega father  
> Oma: Omega mother
> 
> Arthur is the exception to this.


End file.
